Niyati

I.
“Princess, it’s time to leave.”
The Guardian waited in the hall behind her. From the Grand Atrium’s balcony, they had a wonderful view of her home being destroyed. The Warrior King and Queen—her mother and father—had fallen that afternoon, and scores of black flags were being hoisted high into the sky. There were mobs running through the streets, lanterns and torches bobbing like the heads of venomous snakes.
And there was a hypnotic quality to their destructive beauty. If she half-closed her eyes, she could imagine sinking into the flames.
“Princess.” Kumani bundled the princess into her disguise and began pulling her away. Tears glistened in Niyati’s light green eyes as Kumani hauled her down a hidden stairway.
The invading Ice clan was storming the Windy Palace, hurling paintings to the ground, smashing glass windows into founts of glimmering shards. No one looked at the two dragons dressed in dark cloaks.
Soon Niyati was running bare-paw through streets she’d been carried through days ago.
“Down with the princess!” a shadow shouted in the night. But Kumani’s sharp growl scared them into silence.
Niyati learned to weep as she ran.

II.
“I can tell you’re afraid.” The Guardian cocked her head, smiling.
“I’m not afraid,” Niyati grumbled. “Just—uncomfortable.”
“That’s one way to put it.” The Guardian’s smile turned grim as she looked at the muddy, grassy earth. It stretched on for leagues, rolling like an ocean, like the whole world was mud, rain, and grass and only the Princess and her guardian lived in it.
The gray sky had wept for ages, now.
“You’re holding up well,” Kumani said in that special, coaxing voice. It never failed to draw the tears back up Niyati’s throat.
“For a useless princess, you mean? One who’s used to sleeping on silk and not doing anything, right? Doing well because I’m fragile.”
“For a child thrown out of your homeland, newly orphaned, and walking leagues without complaining into the middle of nowhere. That’s all I meant.”
“Ugh.” Niyati snuffled. There were no tears, though: she had a cold. “Why?”
“Why—“
“—did they seek us out to destroy us?” Her voice was abrupt. “Why, when we had Ice dragons in Elvall. Even a temple to the Icewarden.”
“Well,” Kumani said slowly. “There are clans in the north that hate other clans, simply for being the way they are.”
“The way they are? Meaning?”
“Different.” Kumani nodded.
Niyati shook her head. “I will never be like that. Never will I judge a dragon for being of a different element. We’re all the same, really, I —“
She was surprised when Kumani nudged her. Despite having had the Guardian for much of her life, she didn’t remember Kumani touching her much. Or at least, it had never felt so warm and soothing.
“No clan will take me,” Niyati whispered into the rain, and it felt true. She’d voiced her deepest fear.
Kumani turned, eying the horizon. In a low voice, she said, “I will do everything in my power to make them accept you.”

III.
Things got better as they fled. The sun emerged at last, peeping through the dark clouds that fled across it.
They passed up on the first two clans. The first was an all-male tribe of Pearlcatchers, a band of knights who madam’d and sir’d the princess so much, she forgot her own name for a time. She was thankful for their food and the place to sleep. Cleaning up helped quite a bit. And the knights were eager to gift her with silks.
She was even thankful for the laughing look that came back into Kumani’s eyes as the knights stumbled around to please Niyati— the laughter replaced the cold, stoic look that had been there since the invasion.
The second clan was a bunch of robbers, led by an all white Imperial boasting icy-white eyes. There was more food there, too, but saltier.
Those white eyes gave Niyati the shudders. But she’d almost insisted they stay because of her vow.
She hated racism and promised she didn’t judge the dragons based on their looks or elements.
“I don’t either,” Kumani hissed as they exited the clan. “I hate them because they smell bad.”
“Lots of talk, coming from us. Did you forget we’d been living in mud for a month now?”
“Oh, hush, and hurry along.”
The third clan, though—they were met one sunny morning by a tall, handsome warrior, a Wildclaw with strong eyes the color of earth.
He unslung his blade and laid it down, then bowed low to the two of them. Despite herself, Niyati was pleased. At least he wasn’t calling her madam and tripping over his own feet.
“Good day, sir.”
“Good day. We heard there was a beautiful princess wandering these parts.”
Niyati flushed. “Well, one of those is true, at least.”
“Both,” Kumani coughed, and all three of them laughed.
But the Wildclaw’s eyes soon grew serious. “We could use you here, to talk about the importance of accepting very dragon.”
She and Kumani exchanged looks. And something began to build in Niyati’s breast: hope.
“Would you let us stay?” she blurted.
“I pledge my life to your clan,” Kumani added.
“Would you?” Niyati said again. “You’re not prejudged toward my people?”
Pallu chuckled, took Niyati’s paw, and kissed it. “Not at all. Welcome home, princess.”

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